Dragon Journal: Entry 2, Teach a Man to Fish
by Wolvierules88
Summary: It's called male bonding time. Logan keeps his promise to Lucas and takes him out for an afternoon of fishing. Both learn a bit about themselves.


This story is **Part 2** to **Dragon Journal: Beginnings**.

Once again, all characters belong to Marvel, except for Miz, Diss, Cobra and Flutterby.

I want to thank Aldebaran, my friend and beta reader, for her endless and much needed help with this story and Beginnings, and for her equally endless patience with my writing insecurities.

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Wolverine keeps his promise to take young Lucas on his first fishing trip. The afternoon turns out to be one of discovery for them both.

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**DRAGON JOURNAL**

Entry 2: Teach A Man To Fish

Jubilee called it male bonding time, when me and Wolverine went fishing together. I thought she was coming with us, but she only walked with us to Logan's Jeep, to see us off. I was okay with her coming along but I was also sort of glad when she didn't. It would be nice to be alone with Wolverine, just him and me, getting to know each other. That's what male bonding time is. No girls.

When those two finally stopped kissing goodbye Logan and I roared off with the top of the Jeep down and the cool wind blowing all around us. It felt fine, let me tell you! The fishing poles were right next to me and in the back seat was a container of live worms for bait, a tackle box and a cooler. I also saw a frying pan and some other kitchen stuff that I thought was weird to have with us until Logan told me we weren't going to go out to eat afterwards, we were going to make a fire and cook and eat the fish we caught. That's way better than eating in any restaurant. I could hardly wait.

After maybe a half hour on the main road we turned off and drove along a narrow, bumpy, winding dirt road into a woodsy area, and after about another 30 minutes of bouncing through ruts and over big rocks and branches we came out of the trees and into a big open meadow. The road stopped, it just ended right there, so that's where Logan parked. I could see a stream ahead, off to the left of the middle of the clearing, a slow-moving stream flowing between grassy banks. Up the bank, close to the water was a cluster of trees and that's where Logan said we'd make our camp.

I helped him take all our stuff from the car. We set up our camp under those trees, and made a place to put the fire by clearing away the grass and leaves from the ground. Logan said being safe with a campfire is very important. It should always be made on bare dirt and far enough away from trees and grass or brush that might catch and cause a forest fire.

Then we gathered different sized sticks and dead grass. Logan called the little twigs and dry grass "tinder". Tinder is what you need to get the fire started because it catches fast. We put tinder down first, then bigger and bigger sticks over it in a sort of pyramid shape, all ready to light later after we caught our fish. I couldn't help hoping that Wolverine would ask me to use my powers to light the fire. I didn't think I'd need tinder to get it going good and fast, either.

We sat on the bank and Logan got my fishing pole ready. He told me he'd do it the first time but after that it was up to me so I better watch close. He put a red and white bobber on the line, and a "sinker" below it. That's a little piece of lead that makes the line hang down in the water. He told me to attach sinkers real well so they won't fall off, because lead leaches into the water and pollutes it. Ducks and fish sometimes accidentally eat sinkers along with plants and junk from the stream bottom, and then they become poisoned, too. I asked him why do people keep making sinkers out of lead, if it's so bad? He looked at me a long time and said, Good question, kid. But he didn't give me an answer so I guess he doesn't know, either.

Then he tied a small hook to my line. The hook had a barb on it, so when a fish grabbed it, it would be hard for the fish to get away. I looked at the hook for a long time, turning it over, feeling that sharp point. I imagined it biting into a fish's mouth, piercing it. It would hurt the fish, wouldn't it? But...we were going to eat the fish, so why worry about the hooking part? I looked to Logan but he was just sitting, his face turned to the sun, drinking a beer. That's what was in that cooler, a six pack of beer for him and a buncha Cokes for me. I handed the hook back to him.

Next came baiting the hook. The container of worms had these drawings on it of smiling worms sitting on fish hooks, their little bodies wrapped around the wire, waving with their tails as they go into the water. I'm not stupid, I sure didn't think that's how you baited a hook, but it took my breath away when I watched Wolverine stab that fish hook through the worm. He _threaded _the hook down through the length of the worm's body, leaving the tail, or maybe that was its head, free to wiggle. The worm twisted and struggled when the hook pierced it, and continued to writhe through the whole operation.

When I looked up at Logan he was looking at me. I searched his face but he had no expression that I could read. It felt cruel, using the worm that way, hurting it so awfully. But I didn't say anything because I was afraid Logan would think I was weak, a sissy, caring about how a worm feels. I tried to look like this was no big deal, but I don't think I pulled it off because Logan smiled a little and chucked me under my chin. He said one of the many things he liked about me is that I'm "real". He said I feel strongly and I'm sensitive to living things, I have what you call empathy, bucket-loads of it, he said, and I should never be embarrassed about that, it was an admirable quality. Then he asked me if I still wanted to fish, if I was prepared to see him kill the fish we catch.

I thought about it. I wasn't sure any more. I did want to stay, fish, eat our catch. But now I knew that the death of these fish was going to be hard to see. They had to die, to _stop living_, to feed us. Was that right? We didn't need to do this, we could go to McDonald's, where the food is already dead.

Logan told me then about the natural order of things. I knew some of this stuff from school, but it was different hearing it from Logan out there in the meadow on that sunny afternoon. He said there are predators and there is prey, there are meat eaters and plant eaters, and the earth has been functioning that way for eons. Plants die so prey animals can live. Those animals die so predators can live. Nothing good or bad about it, it's simply the way of things.

I told him people are omnivorous, we eat both plants and animals. We can choose to not eat meat, and be vegetarian, I said. Many people do choose that way, Logan said, and there's nothing wrong with it. It's a choice, like eating meat is a choice. What meat eaters can do, he said, is make sure the fish or animals we take are killed quickly and humanely.

I had to ask, But what about the worm? That sure wasn't quick and humane.

Logan didn't say anything right away. He took a couple swallows of his beer, draining it, crushing the can in his fist. He shrugged a little. He said he didn't have a good answer for that, but he wished he did. He said I was too smart for him, I had a good noodle. And then he asked me again, what do I want to do? Keep fishing, or go to a restaurant in town? Either way was fine with him, it was my call.

I decided I wanted to stay. I wanted to catch fish, learn how to humanely kill them, and eat our dinner fresh from the campfire. I am Draco, the Dragon, and I am a meat eater. Dragons aren't vegetarian, and neither are wolverines. This is the natural order of things. I would stay, learn, and be true to my dragon nature. I felt excited, I knew I'd made the best choice for myself, to grow and have a whole lot of fun too. I would _show_ Wolverine what I wanted to do. Yeah, Draco's a man of action, watch this!

I skipped to the pile of wood that was our campfire waiting to be lit, swallowing air as fast as possible as I went. I wanted a big, showy whoosh. I'd light our fire to show Logan we're going to eat right here! I'd only had a few classes on controlling powers and they didn't enter my head really. I was so bent on making a statement, I just let loose.

It was massive. This sort of flame-thrower like blast poured out of me and luckily I was close enough and aiming right because the flames hit that wood and engulfed it in a furious ball of fire. Overkill, the wood burned to ash in about fifteen seconds. I'd nuked it.

Slowly I turned to face Logan. He was right where I'd left him, but twisted around, staring at me in astonishment. I think I read that expression perfectly. I said with what I hoped was strength in my voice, "I want to eat our fish cooked on our own campfire..." I turned and looked doubtfully back at the pile of ash. There'd be no cooking on _that_ smoldering heap. Then I whirled around in surprise when Logan started to laugh. He laughed and laughed, motioning me to come to him. He slapped me on my back hard enough to make me stagger. He told me I was one helluva kid. I think maybe he was sort of proud of me.

We gathered more wood and this time I thought about it and was careful and lit the fire properly. I managed to bait my own hook too. I took so long, though, holding that hook over the helpless worm, and dreading the awful _threading _part, that Logan said why don't I just poke it through once and leave it at that. I asked him if he was reading my mind, 'cause that's exactly what I was thinking about and he said no, he was reading my _body language. _I want to learn to do that.

I don't know if I'll ever get used to baiting the hook. I mean I really hate doing it. But I did it. And the fish were biting! Logan showed me how to set the hook when a fish nibbles the bait. You watch your bobber, and when it moves enough and gets tugged under the water you have to quick jerk your fishing pole up sort of hard so the hook goes into the fish's mouth and he doesn't swallow it. Logan told me I don't want to see how you remove a swallowed hook, so I should make sure I set that hook good when my bobber bobs. I told myself as we fished a hook in the mouth is better than one in the stomach, but it was still hard, knowing I was going to be the cause of the fish's pain. And eventual death.

The first nibble I got I tried to set that hook good and hard. Way too hard as it turned out. The hook came flying out of the water back at me. I yelled and ducked, the hook missed me but it bit into Logan's shoulder. The bobber bounced off his head. I was horrified, he was bleeding, but Logan told me to calm down, it was alright, stuff like this happens all the time to new fishermen. I'm not sure I believe that. But he said, Relax, kid, and go get the tackle box.

When I brought it to him he told me to take out the wire cutters, that tool right there. He showed me how to cut off the barb so the hook can be slid out easily. By the time he got the barb cut off he had healed all around the wire, though. _That_ was cool, watching his skin knit together. When I looked up he was smiling a little, looking down at me. I asked him, Now what? You're all healed around the wire. He said, Not a problem, and startled me by yanking the wire out. I looked up in surprise and he said, You can watch it mend again. My nose was just about touching his arm, I was watching so close. The edges of the little cut reached for each other, eager to meet and seal. Logan's healing factor is awesome. He said normally he would have just pulled the hook out barb and all, but he wanted me to see how to remove a fish hook from someone who doesn't have a healing factor. But doesn't it hurt, I asked, to just rip it out? He said sure, he doesn't like pain any more than the next guy, but you do what you have to. That's all he said about it. He doesn't let even the _thought_ of pain stop him. Man. That is so cool.

As we sat there watching our bobbers float slowly past us Logan asked me if I'd ever heard the old Chinese proverb about teaching a man to fish. I said no, would he tell me? It goes like this: If you _give_ a man a fish, he eats for a day. If you _teach_ a man to fish, he eats for a lifetime. So simple, those two little lines, but they really made an impression on me. What caught my attention the most was the sort of invisible person in it who was doing the teaching. What an accomplishment, how good he must have felt, giving such important skills to someone, and what did it say about him, that he took the time to do it? I glanced at Logan, who was intently watching his bobber as it trembled with a possible bite.

I leaned back against the bank. The sun was warm. Cicadas were buzzing in the woods, an endless chorus of _zzip, zzip, zzip..._metallic green and blue dragonflies were helicoptering over the stream, landing on the grasses hanging over the water's edge. A kingfisher dropped from a low overhanging branch of one of the trees by us, plopping into the water and emerging with a tiny sparkling fish held tight in it's beak. The bird went back into the tree and whacked the fish against a branch before swallowing it down in a gulp. Humane bird.

Finally I said to Logan that fishing story makes a whole lot of sense to me. That teacher was looking at the big picture, how things will be in the future for his student. A _way_ harder thing to do, and takes so much more of the teacher's time. A bigger _commitment._ But that way done it was a good and proper job. It says a lot about you if you do things the right way even if it's not convenient for you. He's a real good guy, that teacher.

Logan sort of studied my face for a minute. He knew what I was saying. He told me I'm sharp as a tack, I give him a new perspective on things. I _do? _I don't know about that. I just kept thinking about how much I would like to be the teacher some day.

We caught two trout, both speckled, or brook trout. One was 10 inches long or so, that's the one I got. Logan's was a little bigger. You know what was really cool? At one point Logan's bobber got pulled down hard and when he jerked the rod to set the hook, it came up and the worm was gone. He took out another worm and hesitated before stabbing the hook through it. He gave me this sideways glance, and then he jabbed the hook through the worm _once, _and flung his line out into the water. Think I'll give your one poke method a try, he said.

Is it okay for me to feel proud about that? Because I do.

We'd got us a good day's catch. I wanted to keep fishing but Logan explained we should only take what we can use, it's very bad to kill something for no reason. He got this funny look when he said that, and I thought he was going to say more 'cause he looked at me for a while, chewing his lip a little. But he didn't. He just gave me the option of watching him kill the fish or not.

I watched. I'm not a wimp, these are things I should know. He took a knife from his fishing stuff and chopped off their heads, real quick like. It was hard watching them die. I felt sorry for them, I couldn't help it. Logan told me a lot of people just let the fish gasp out their life on the ground, or strung on a cord through their mouths and hanging in the water. Both of those ways took time. His way was more humane, it was fast, but sort of gross, too, for the people watching. When the fish were dead, Logan showed me what to say to thank them for their meat, their sacrifice. I really like that part, it made it feel better, to thank them. I thanked the worms, too, for their sacrifice.

I asked Logan how come he didn't he use his claws to kill the fish? He said his claws were for X Men stuff, for fighting, they were weapons, and should be used as such. He told me my fire power is more _versatile _than his claws. That means I can do more with it. I think what he means is fire can be used for many things that are good, like heat, cooking, light, while Logan's claws are only for...cutting, for hurting. Offense. I understand this difference. It sort of makes me sad.

It was really great, cleaning the fish. Logan let me do it, he was sitting and leaning against one of those trees, drinking a beer, instructing me. He had all the tools there in his tackle box. I had to scale them, and gut them. My little claws worked real well for cutting them open, I didn't need the special knife he had for that. But before starting I sat and just looked at the fish for a while, their scales mostly, comparing them to my own. It was very interesting because the fish's scales overlapped each other and you could lift the back edges up, away from the fish's body. My own scales were firmly attached all the way around, and smooth. Mine were smaller, too, and looked, I don't know, nicer, neater. I mean, you can only pet a fish one way, nose to tail. That was a big difference. Plus the color. The fish had mostly silver scales with some dark spots, while mine were all shifting rainbow colors on a tan and brown background. Some hints of green showing here and there. I decided I liked mine more.

I started thinking about how I'd tried to scrape my scales off when I was locked in my dad's basement for those two weeks while he decided what to do with me, after he first saw my mutation. I looked at the place, on the inside of my left arm. The scales weren't in perfect rows there now, it was healed but I had damaged them and there was a little scar. I showed Logan, and before I knew I was going to I told him all about the basement and I what I'd done to myself there. Logan's face got hard and he said flamin' something or other, I don't know what because that hard face got me scared, it was like Dad again and I didn't hear what else he said. I shouldn't have told him what I'd done because now Logan was mad at me.

But he quick put his arm across my shoulders and told me he was sorry, he wasn't mad at me, no, just at how things had been for me before I came to the school. He said he understood that feeling of not liking yourself_, _he's felt it himself. He told me it's sort of normal for some mutants to go through a period like that. I told him I felt better now since coming here and meeting other mutants, especially other feral mutants like me. Miz my therapist was helping me, and I told Logan he was, too. I told him he'd made me feel real special because out of all the boys at this school, he'd picked me to take fishing. Logan tugged on my ear and he smiled, and then we did a high five, just like that! Like we'd been doing it for years. It was great.

He got a little serious then and said he had something to tell me. Right away I got scared again. I thought, this is where he tells me I have to go away, or maybe _he_ has to go away and I'll never see him again, or maybe... my mind was spinning with all the possibilities. Logan said, I'm going to tell you something I think you should know. He said my father had called the school yesterday and talked for a long time to the professor. Logan told me my dad was signing over custody of me to the school, to Professor Xavier. Custody? I repeated stupidly. I knew what it meant but I was sort of numb and my mind wasn't working right. Custody. My father wants me to belong to someone else. My father really doesn't want me anymore, I was right. He did throw me away.

Was I so bad? What had I done? It was this mutation. I looked angrily at the scar I'd given myself. My chest was heaving. I didn't deserve this. I lifted my clawed hand and tore at that scar and Logan grabbed my wrists and held me hard but gentle at the same time as I fought to get away. I don't know what I was doing, or where I was going to go but I struggled like I was crazy. In a way, I was. I think I was yelling, I know I was crying.

I had to stop, eventually I wore myself out. Logan let go my wrists and I leaned against him and he sort of hugged me a little. I wiped my streaming face on his shirt. Then I said something mean. I...I don't know, it just popped out and I felt ashamed and weirdly right about saying it, at the same time. I said, So that's why you took me fishing today. Not because you like me. 'Cause you feel sorry for me.

Logan's hand fell on my shoulder and he turned me to face him. He said, Let's get something straight right now, kid. I took you fishing because I like you. You got heart and you got a way of looking at things that's fresh and real. You're a fighter, but not like me. You use your head, you think things through, you think first and act second. I admire that. Remember I said you got a special feeling for living things? We're alike in that way, don't you see? He said, I see some of myself in you, and I also see in you what I'd like to be. Feeling sorry for you ain't a part of this at all.

I thought hard about what he said. He was telling me he liked me for me, for who I am, mutation and all. He even admires me. It was hard to wrap my mind around that, but it made me feel really, really good. My dad doesn't want me, but Logan does. My dad doesn't want me...I started to sniffle again. Logan said I had a lot to think about, a lot to work through and come to terms with, but I had to remember that my dad gave me a soft place to fall by sending me here, it was a caring thing he'd done, in the end. He said by sending me to this school, and yes, even by relinquishing custody of me my dad was admitting he had made a mistake. What mistake? I asked. In how he'd raised me, in how I'd been treated my whole life by him. By letting me go my father was saying he really did love me, and he wanted to do right by me, finally. Did I understand that? I _was _loved, Logan said. Loved by my father, and by people at the Xavier school. And I would always have a home at the school, I never had to worry about that.

It was like a big ball of tangled fishing line slowly coming unraveled, not all of it, but some. It was like Logan's hook in the arm was a hook in my stomach and he'd clipped the barb, slid it out. That's how my insides felt when he said all that. A loosening. I told him thank you for telling me, and explaining everything to me, and thank you for this fishing trip. I also said I was sorry. He said Hey, nothing to apologize for, son.

Now I don't know if he meant it in an actual father-like way or what, but it sure made me feel good, anyway. Son, Logan called me _son. _I decided right then I was going to live and learn at the school in such a way that he would be proud to call me son, and mean it. That was my new goal. I'd show everyone I was a good person! I mean, I am, aren't I? Because Wolverine believes in me, and how can _he_ be wrong? My heart was pounding. I was very anxious to talk to Miz about all this.

Later I was sort of quiet as we ate our catch right from the sizzling frying pan, reaching into it with our forks and breaking off chunks of meat that were sweet and tasty. It had a special flavor Logan said was 'the great outdoors', a seasoning you can only get with a camp fire, a sunny afternoon, and a good friend to share it all with. It made me smile and he told me that things would work out for me, I was going to be alright, he was sure of it. I think I believe him.

I thought a lot on the drive back to the school. I'd learned many things, about survival of the body and of the soul, too, the spirit. I decided I would choose how I wanted to be. If I fought and cried and protested, yelled about how unfair it all was, well, I'd be stuck, that way. Stuck like I had been, locked in that basement, scarring myself. Or I could let this change happen, and grow with it, and see it as an evolving into a new me, a different, stronger version of the one that had huddled silently in my father's cellar. I had Wolverine by my side, a mountain of strength if there ever was one. An odd thought came to me...in some small way, was I Wolverine's mountain of strength? His mole-hill, maybe. I looked over at him, driving serenely, puffing on a cigar. I was important to him, more than I'd realized. He said he admired how I thought first before acting. Well I admired how he didn't let thoughts stop him, he just went for it, plunging right into it, whatever it might be, and getting the job done.

I knew that Logan had more to give me than the other way around but the fact was he was already doing something differently because of me: thinking about sparing the worm...just as I was doing something differently because of Logan: seeing myself as a person who could, one day, help others.

When we got back to the school and pulled up in front of the garage the mansion doors opened and out came Jubilee, Kurt, Miz and Diss, Cobra and Flutterby. They must have been watching for us to return. Jubilee and Logan hugged by the Jeep for about a year while everyone else was asking how it went, what did we catch and how many, where did we go. Everybody was talking at once. I looked at them, my friends, my teachers, patting my shoulder, ruffling my hair, interested in my day. Interested in me.

The late afternoon sun was slanting into my eyes. Flutterby took my hand, urging me to come with her, her beautiful orange and yellow wings with their big blue eye spots fanning the air. Diss ran ahead with Cobe, waving and calling to me to follow. I could smell dinner cooking inside and even though I wasn't hungry my mouth watered in anticipation of that good food. It was then when I began to realize, to _feel. T_he huge, imposing mansion before me really could be my home, and all these people milling around me weren't just people I knew, but a group of friends that I trusted. Friends who cared, who would light my way and show me goodness and hope and love. Maybe all this, too, was the natural order of things.

I'd had to leave my home so that I could find my home. My father's cruelty is part of me, it shaped me and molded me, but not in his image. I wasn't conscious of doing it but I'd veered away from his example to become his opposite. How amazing, how wonderful. I didn't know I had it in me.

I whirled, I spun, I laughed and leaped. With a shout of joy I ran after Diss, pulling a startled Flutterby along with me. My new life was calling, and I was eager to begin.


End file.
